Page 20 of Demon's Dark Love

“You’re unhappy,” she says without looking up. “I can tell.”

“Got caught up with some admirers,” I reply, stepping closer. “You know, the ones who think I’ve gone soft.”

She finally looks at me, amusement in her eyes. “Maybe you have.”

“Not a chance.” I crouch beside her, inspecting a thorn she’s carefully avoiding, then jabbing it with my finger and drawing blood, holding it up for her to see I’m not soft.

“Fine, tough guy,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“You’ve been busy.”

“Someone has to keep these roses alive,” she says, a hint of pride in her voice.

I reach out, brushing a petal with my fingers. “You’re doing a good job. Better than the last gardener.”

“He was a demon! Of course he was a terrible gardener.” She laughs, a sound that’s becoming dangerously comforting. “You know, you’re risking a lot by helping me.”

“I can handle it.” I glance around, ensuring we’re alone. “But you need to be careful. Rumors are spreading.”

“I’ve noticed,” she says quietly. “Griselda’s been giving me hell.”

“She’s jealous,” I say, my voice low. “Always has been.”

“Of what? A human?”

“Of anyone who gets attention.”

She shakes her head. “This isn’t a game, Enoch. If your mother finds out?—”

“I’ll deal with her.” The words come out sharper than I intend. I soften my tone. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Why?” Her question hangs in the air, heavy and uncertain.

“Because you’re different,” I say, meeting her gaze. “And you make me different.”

She sighs, looking away. “Different isn’t always better.”

“In this case, it is.” I stand, offering her my hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

She takes my hand, her touch sending a jolt through me. We move through the garden on our way toward the passage to the library, the tension between us palpable. Every step feels like a defiance, a challenge to the world we’re trapped in.

As we reach a hidden corner, she turns to me. “What’s our plan?”

“Survive,” I say, pulling her closer.

The hidden passage behind the library is damp, the air thick with the scent of mildew. Our secret refuge. The flickeringtorchlight casts long shadows on the stone walls, creating a semblance of privacy.

“Do you think it’s real?” Lily asks, her voice barely a whisper.

"What?" I lean against the wall, watching her pace.

“The artifact I keep hearing about."

"Oh, it’s real. The question is where it’s hidden.”

She stops, looking at me with those piercing green eyes. “And you know?”

“I have an idea.” I smirk, enjoying the way her eyes narrow. “You didn’t think I’d come to these meetings unprepared, did you?”

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